


Thursdays

by moonheist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Next Generation, owlery sex, that is literally the whole plot of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 04:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2137365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonheist/pseuds/moonheist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has become something of a routine over the past several weeks, meeting in the Owlery on Thursday nights after his practice for a bit of time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursdays

There is something soothing in sitting on a wooden bench, stroking the soft black feathers of her boyfriend’s owl and working out the answers to her Arithmancy assignment. Scorpius is at Quidditch practice, certain to appear in a few short minutes covered in sweat and still in his practice robes.

It has become something of a routine over the past several weeks, meeting in the Owlery on Thursday nights after his practice for a bit of time together. Her cousins are always swarming around the Gryffindor common room, making it all but impossible to get any closer to him than holding his hand, as even that depends on James’ mood. The Slytherin common room is out of the question if for no other reason than only Scorpius’ best friend approves of her and the entire population of Slytherin girls hates her to the very core of her being.

Rose has no particular opinion on being the target of the snottiest, rudest girls in school. Scorpius not withstanding, there is an entire legion of boys ready to defend her honor should any one of those witches decide to lay a hand on her, or worse, a hex. She laughs to herself at the thought and glances at Orion, offering the bird a small smile. He pecks lovingly at her palm and she grabs another owl treat out of her bag, offering it to the creature. He takes it eagerly and flies off to enjoy his snack, leaving her to her last equation.

“You are concentrating much too hard,” a familiar voice murmurs teasingly. Rose glances up from her homework and smiles brilliantly, abandoning her parchment and quill to greet him properly. Scorpius crosses the distance between them in three strides, pulling her into his arms and kissing her soundly.

“How was practice?” she asks when they break apart. He shrugs noncommittally and nods toward Orion, who is now perched near a large barn owl looking completely content.

“How many owl treats did you give him?”

She smiles and kisses him again. “Three,” she murmurs. “But I’ve been up here for over an hour, so you must understand the circumstances.”

“That eager to see me?” Scorpius gently brushes her hair back from her face.

“Hardly,” she replies, rather haughtily. “It’s merely impossible to concentrate when my cousins are begging me to beat them at chess for the hundredth time.”

“Right,” he says, chuckling. The sound is low, vibrating through his chest and warming her from head to toe. Rose presses closer to him and buries her face against his neck, gently twining her fingers in his hair.

They stand there quietly, his hands stroking her waist, her hands stroking his hair, until the tower is immersed in total darkness save for the light of the half-moon. A loud rustling of feathers breaks the silence as owl after owl takes off to hunt and after what seems like an eternity, she pulls back to look at him.

“We should probably be getting back,” she whispers, aware of how silly it is to be quiet in such a secluded area. The owls nearly drown out her words, anyway, though Scorpius appears to hear her regardless. She believes that might have something to do with their proximity. Blue eyes light with recognition and she offers him a small smirk. He presses his lips against her neck once, twice, and a third time as he hums low in his throat.

“The Transfiguration exam is tomorrow,” he agrees. She nods and tilts her head to give him better access, letting her eyes flutter shut. 

Scorpius runs his tongue along the shell of her ear, causing her knees to liquefy in an embarrassing way that, if he had any knowledge of the phenomenon, he would take every opportunity to mock her for it. Rose whimpers when he bites down on her earlobe and presses against him.

He gives up on attempting to keep his balance and rocks back on his heels, colliding with the wall. A dull thud sounds in her ears before he settles himself to lean more comfortably against the stone, and she pulls his face back to hers for another kiss.

One of the owls lets out a hoot that sounds distinctly jealous, and Scorpius pulls away from her as Orion gently settles on her shoulder, digging his talons into her robes. Her boyfriend raises an eyebrow.

“Something you should tell me?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says solemnly, reaching one hand up to stroke the bird’s feathers once more. “Orion returns my feelings for him. We’ve decided to run away together once I kick your arse on the Transfiguration exam.”

Scorpius snorts. “At least that explains the owl treats.”

“Are you saying I over-indulge your bird?”

“Maybe,” he tells her, arching an eyebrow. Rose’s breath hitches in her throat at the expression. His eyes are smoldering. “Are you denying the claim?”

“No,” she says softly, shaking her head back and forth. Her hand falls away from Orion to rest on Scorpius’ shoulder. “Merely observing your hypocrisy in the matter.”

“Oh?”

She hums and leans forward, taking his bottom lip between her teeth. He kisses her tenderly, distracting her from their banter for a moment. The bird makes another indignant hooting sound and then his weight is gone from her shoulder as he joins the other owls on their hunt. She pulls away from the kiss.

“I believe he learned the art of indulgence from his master,” she whispers breathlessly.

The next brush of their lips is harsh, and she takes the punishment willingly, forgetting to point out that Scorpius didn’t deny the claim before he started to tug at her robes.

Rose returns to the common room at ten minutes until curfew, the last problem on her Arithmancy homework forgotten and her robes absolutely covered in owl droppings. She decides she doesn’t mind. Thursdays have never been more lovely.


End file.
